Crash and Burn
by Loopstagirl
Summary: Even in the darkest of moments, there is always a beacon of hope. Or a brother.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

**This is dedicated to three very special people, my own version of International Rescue, the three that have saved me (and put up with me!) time and time again over the last month and a bit, and I wanted you all to know how much it has meant.**

**Sam1 and Angel-Sue76 – your love, support, companionship (and torment! Hee hee!) has really kept me going, I couldn't have done it without you.**

**And as for you, Silver Bee, I think you already know you are my hero! You're not an only child anymore, big sister!**

John battled his way through the smoke filled forest, not able to see more than three paces in front of him. There were survivors in here somewhere. At least, there had been when the boys had reached the accident zone half an hour ago. Gordon and Virgil had taken the Firefly and Mole respectively to try and reach some of the victims and battle against the flames now consuming the forest. Scott was, as per usual, manning Mobile Control, desperately trying to direct his brothers in order to save as many lives as possible. It wasn't easy though. When the flames had erupted from another part of the forest, John had decided that he needed to move. He couldn't just wait around trying to pull the few people free that he happened to come across. No. He needed to do more. And so, with a quick message to Scott to let him know what he was doing, John had set off into the burning forest.

He had no idea how long he had been walking for, desperately squinting up the hidden path in front of him in order to try and pick his way through the flaming trees, keeping half an eye on the sky above him. He had seen more than one flaming tree topple, igniting others on the way down, and had no desire to be caught under one of them. Shaking his head in order to try and see if that will shift the ash that had begun to settle on his helmet, John couldn't help but sigh. He knew deep breaths were a bad idea; he was walking on limited oxygen as it was. In fact, it was only thinking about it now that John realised what a stupid idea this was. What was he planning to do if he actually managed to find the victims? He only had one oxygen pack, and he himself was wearing it and had been since they had arrived, meaning it was probably already half gone. And that was of course assuming that all the victims were still conscious, and even able to walk through a fiery, smoked filled forest.

Coming to a stop, John cursed under his breath. He shouldn't be going on alone through _this_, it was practically suicide. He couldn't do anything for the victims apart from become one himself, and with the heavy feeling that he had let the team down, he turned on his heel and began trudging back up the path towards Scott. He wasn't often on rescues, but it hadn't escaped his father's attention that every time he was, he somehow managed to get himself hurt. It wasn't as if he didn't know what he was doing, he had been on as many call outs as Alan. Yet somehow, he always seemed to end up being the one in trouble. He was sure that fate had it him for him, that it was always a troublesome rescue that even had Virgil and Scott freaking out that he ended up on. Although, as he dived to one side to avoid the falling branch that had been plummeting towards his head, John knew there was a reason why he ended up being the one hurt. He was so used to having to simply monitor the action from Five, desperately hoping that the rescue was going to go smoothly and that his brothers would emerge unharmed from it all. When he was down on the ground, however, that helplessness he felt more often than not leaked over into actions. He was down here to save lives, and that was what John Tracy was going to do. More often than not at a risk to himself. He couldn't help it; it was like an automatic reaction. He knew there were people in danger, and for once he was not stuck hundreds of miles above the earth, listening to their frightened screams.

There were times where he wished he could just block it all off. Turn of the radios and bury himself away, not having to listen any more for someone begging them to come and save them. But yet he made himself listen, reminding himself that they could only try their best. His father always claimed that they couldn't save everyone, but each time there was a tragedy, he knew each of his brothers felt the way he did. As if he was somehow personally responsible for their death, despite knowing that, only a few years ago, there would have been hundred more deaths from the same event if it wasn't for them. Still, John knew that people were relying on International Rescue to save their loved ones.

So lost in his own dark thoughts, John stopped watching out for falling debris. He didn't hear the ominous creak sounding above his head, didn't notice the way the burning wood splintered, allowing one of its flaming branches to be sent plummeting towards the ground. It was only at the last minute that John glanced up, before frantically throwing himself forward with a slight cry of alarm. What he didn't realise, however, was that as he propelled his body forward, he somehow managed to catch something on his watch, meaning his immediate younger brother was witness to his cry of alarm.

Somehow, he managed to clear the flaming branch. But on falling, John found that he had somehow awkwardly twisted. In throwing himself away from the blaze, he landed heavily on his back, wincing as he felt the jagged rocks dig into his spine. Lying still for a moment, the second born son of Jeff Tracy tried to regain his breath, only to suddenly realise what was wrong. The impact had cause the rocks to damage the oxygen canister strapped onto his back, and as the air reaching his lungs felt somewhat thin, John knew he was in deep trouble. Shakily reaching around with one hand, Jon couldn't stop another cry of alarm escaping him as he felt the ragged tear in the metal. He must have fallen at a really awkward angle if the rocks had managed to have that much of an impact. Knowing that his mask was doing nothing now, John reached up, slowly removing his helmet as he did so. Trying not to cough as he immediately inhaled the ash particles floating menacingly on the breeze, he stumbled forward, wincing again as he realised he must have gone over on his ankle in the process.

Once more squinting up the path, John swallowed hard, determined that he was not going to cough. He knew that given how thin the air was from where the flames had been consuming it, it would do him no good whatsoever to have to draw in any sharp breaths. Setting his jaw, the blond shakily made his way forward, flinching with each step as his ankle throbbed mercilessly and his head began to pound in time to his slightly erratic heartbeat as the thin oxygen began to take its toll. One thing none of the Tracys were, however, was a quitter, and so it was with small, shaky steps that John forced his way forward.

He didn't know how long he had been walking for, but eventually, it was getting to the stage where his lungs were beginning to burn from the lack of clean oxygen reaching them, stars erupting across his vision now and again, making him weave unpleasantly. Squinting down the path, John knew that he still had a considerable amount of distance to go until he would reach the welcoming sight of Mobile Control. Or more precisely, until he reached the safety that his big brother would provide him with. Stepping forward, John let out a hiss of pain as he sunk to his knees. No matter how much he tried to change the position of his foot, the ankle simple wasn't going to support his weight. As the fire sprung a few trees closer, John suddenly realised that he was not going to be able to walk away from this one, he was not going to be able to clear the forest before it was completely consumed. The only thing that was giving him small comfort, however, was that he knew he wouldn't feel anything. The lack of oxygen was beginning to have a profound effect, and his vision began to darken again, John suddenly remembered the ingenious device strapped to his wrist. Clumsily hitting out with one hand, he flicked the first switch he came across, knowing automatically by the frequency that he had just patched himself through to Scott. That was good. He would much rather it be his older brother that heard rather than one of his younger ones. He could still protect them, even now.

"John? John, is that you? Where are you? John!"

"Scott..." But that was as far as John got, before slumping forward on the ground where he sat, unconscious.

TBTBTB

"C'mon, John, breathe, damnit!" Feeling something settle over his face, John shifted in panic. He didn't want to be trapped. He wanted to be free, to be able to see the stars one more time.

"John? John, can you hear me? Johnny, please, open your eyes." His breathing coming in short panicked bursts, John made to move his hand, anything to rid him of whatever it was that was obscuring his face. He found that he couldn't, however. Someone was holding his hand in their own, the tight grip reassuring John in a way he couldn't describe. Not knowing what else he was supposed to do, John tried to return the grip, clinging on weakly, thankful that there was something grounding him, stopping him from drifting back into the darkness. As his breathing slowly began to calm from the erratic bursts, John suddenly realised that the whole action of breathing itself was becoming easier. Fresh air was flooding into his lungs with each breath, and in realising what it was that was settled over his face, John inhaled deeply, relishing in the feeling of being able to breathe clearly again. After a few moments, the darkness seemed to lift completely, and John found that he could open his eyes again.

Crouched above him, Virgil's ashen streaked face seemed to morph into an expression of the utmost relief as his big brother opened his eyes. The pain and fright began to slowly relinquish their grip on his eyes, allowing the artist to turn back into the kid brother John knew and loved so much. Swallowing hard, Virgil shakily helped his brother sit up, immediately keeping John's hands down as he reached for the mask again.

"Leave it on, Johnny. You have to clear your lungs." Taking in his surroundings, John blinked in confusion. He was no longer in the forest, but on the outskirts, far enough away from the trees in order to be safe. One glance around showed him that the two brothers were alone, not even any equipment littered the area. But that would have meant that Virgil would have sped into a burning forest on his own and without any aid. He had then somehow managed to find his brother, drag him to safety and revive him. And the fact that John was now sitting up even thinking it, all had to have happened within a very short space of time.

"How?" He eventually managed to croak, wincing at how harsh his voice sounded. He knew by Virgil's look, however, that if he even thought about removing the mask again, his little brother would personally sit on him until Virgil deemed he was fit to remove it.

"Don't know." Virgil said softly, running a hand through his hair and leaving yet another ashen streak through it as he glanced towards the flaming forest. It was like he had been in a dream. He had heard John's first cry of alarm, but then had not been able to get a response from his brother, not realising that John was not even aware that he had patched himself through in the first place. Knowing something was seriously wrong, Virgil had then ran, ran as he had never ran before. He still didn't know how he had managed to find his brother in the dark, only knew that he had felt as if his heart was going to explode when he had caught sight of the motionless figure on the floor, the gaping hole in his tank more than reason for his current predicament.

Thanking whoever and whatever was out there that he miraculously still had one of the spare oxygen cylinders with him, Virgil had hooked his brother up and set about with one of the hardest rescues he had ever had to carry out. It was more than just a life on the line, it was _John's _life, therefore it was the life of the whole family. Failure simply wasn't an option.

"Thank you." John stated quietly, rotating his ankle with a soft groan. Watching him in concern, Virgil placed his hand over his brother's once more, squeezing it gently.

"You know us Tracys, Johnny. We always find a way of saving each other, no matter what."

"No matter what." John repeated, smiling up at his brother. Virgil seemed to hesitate for a moment before suddenly flinging his arms around John. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, John reached up awkwardly, somehow managing to loop his arm around his brother. Hearing a thunderous shout, the two boys looked up to see Scott and Gordon racing onto the scene, fright etched in both of their young faces. On seeing their siblings, both skidded simultaneously to a stop, before continuing to cross the distance remaining at a much calmer pace, relief slowly taking the place of the fear when they saw that John was alright.

"You know what you said about saving?" John muttered, a small smile playing across his lips. Glancing between John and Scott, Virgil grinned. He knew precisely what his brother was thinking. After making sure that his brother was alive and well, Scott would no doubt kill him for putting him through it in the first place.

"Nice knowing you, bro." Virgil stood slowly back up again, giving John's shoulder a squeeze as he did so. For as much as John might have thought fate had it in for him, Virgil knew otherwise. Whilst they had each other, the Tracy brothers had nothing to fear.

**Wow, this was quite dark, wasn't it? Ops! Sorry!**


End file.
